As the Seasons Change
by sergeantmicky
Summary: Tag scene to the end of Civil War. Bucky is broken, finished, ready to die. But Steve is there, and as long as he draws breath, he'll fight for Bucky. Lots of h/c, no slash.


**Hello! This tag has been sitting on my computer, half-finished, since Civil War came out a year and a half ago. I started it then, but couldn't find a way to finish it. Although I loved Civil War, I felt that in regards to Bucky and Steve it was, unfortunately, a wasted opportunity. So naturally I had to write something to make up for what I felt we were cheated out of.** **It takes place during and after the fight scene between Steve, Bucky and Tony at the end of the movie.**

 **The song lyrics are from "Sound the Bugle" by Bryan Adams. Since seeing Civil War I can't hear that song without thinking of Bucky, and it inspired this story. I own nothing, and there's no slash here, just friendship.**

 **I have really missed writing these two, I still love them so fiercely! I hope you enjoy this story that has been almost two years in the making!**

 **x**

He lays on the floor and waits to die. It's done. It's all come down to this.

 _I didn't think it would end like this._

But if he could go out any way. Any time. Any place. Maybe this is the best way it could happen. With Steve back in his life. Knowing that Steve cares about him.

 _Still cares_. _I remember._

With Steve fighting to defend him, knowing that Steve _would_ fight to defend him. For some reason he's not surprised about this, in spite of everything he has done to Steve, to everyone. Somewhere far back, that was something he already knew, that Steve would fight to the death for him.

There's a lot of noise going on to his right, he can hear Steve and Stark fighting still, the clash of metal on metal, but it's dim. It's so dim and far away. As he looks up at the concrete ceiling above him, the blank greyness, something flickers through his memory.

 _An apartment. People dancing. Brightly coloured posters, pictures of soldiers and rifles and tanks. A sunrise, over buildings, Steve small and skinny by his side. Steve's laughing face, the world spinning around them. A red-haired girl smiling, her eyes sparkling, bright lights and music. Trees. Bright, exploding stars in the sky. A bigger Steve, above him, scared and relieved. Strong, reassuring hands lifting him up._

Bucky blinks and the pictures disappear. _So long ago. So long._ He knows it's his memory, but it feels like it happened in another life. He thinks about Steve's honest, determined face, the unquestioning loyalty. _I wish I could have got to know him again._

 **Sound the bugle now  
Play it just for me  
As the seasons change, remember how I used to be**

He's cold, so cold. _I always am._ He has been cold for so long, and now he will never be warm again. He waits to die.

 **I'm a soldier, wounded so I must give up the fight  
There's nothing more for me, lead me away  
Or leave me lying here**

A hand appears in front of him, reaches down to grasp his arm, and Bucky drags his exhausted gaze upward. _Steve._ He's bloody and white-faced, but it's Steve, it's _Steve. He's alive._

He pulls Bucky up, strong and reassuring, and Bucky thinks about a cold table, a very long time ago, _so long,_ and Steve was there.

 _Steve. What would I do without you?_

Steve pulls Bucky's arm over his shoulders, and Bucky can only lean on him. He has nothing left.

"That shield doesn't belong to you," Stark calls, as if from very far away, a tremble barely disguised in his voice. "You don't deserve to carry it. My father made that shield."

Steve stops moving, and the metallic clang of his shield hitting the concrete is loud and final. His arm tightens around Bucky's back, and Bucky focuses on that and only that, and prays that he doesn't let go.

 **Sound the bugle now, tell them I don't care  
** **There's not a road I know, that leads to anywhere  
** **Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark**

He's so cold. He can't stop shivering. The cold is bone deep, eating away at muscle and sinew. But Steve's arm is warm around his back and he leans into it, focuses on only it, wonders how Steve manages to stay so warm in this freezing hell.

 _Steve... Steve, I'm almost gone._

Vaguely, he can hear Steve talking to someone. _T'Challa?_ It doesn't matter.

 **Then from on high, somewhere in the distance  
There's a voice that calls "Remember who you are"**

"Bucky?" Steve's voice, close by his ear.

He has no energy to answer. His eyelids feels frozen shut. _Almost gone. It's okay, Steve. I'm so cold. I'm so tired. Let it end._

"Buck, hey, look at me!" Steve's voice is shaking, there's an edge of tears, and suddenly Steve's arm disappears from his back and takes all the warmth with it and Bucky tries to raise his head, his throat tightening with fear and anguish suddenly.

 _Steve? Don't leave me. I don't want to die alone._

Cold metal against his back. _NOT THAT._ Bucky panics, wrenches his eyes open, a whimper fighting to get out of his throat, and Steve is hovering over him, blue eyes too shiny, his chin trembling.

"Bucky? Bucky, come on, bud. There you are, there you are." Steve squeezes the bridge of his nose, blinking, and then reaches forward and pats Bucky's cheek gently. "There you are. You scared me. Don't close your eyes, okay? Keep them open for me." Steve looks up and away, blinking rapidly, his eyelashes damp, his breath shaky.

 **If you lose yourself, your courage soon will follow  
So be strong tonight...**

 **Remember who you are**

Bucky swallows, forces the words out of his aching throat. "Don't _leave_ ," he pleads, grasping for Steve's arm, and Steve's eyebrows shoot up.

"Hey, hey. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." His hand closes around Bucky's frozen fingers, and warmth radiates up Bucky's arm to his chest, comforting and familiar. It feels like a lifeline. He holds on as tight as he can, forcing his burning eyes to focus on Steve's face.

"Don't _you_ go anywhere either, okay?" Steve smiles, but it's a scared smile, he looks like he's twelve years old. "I need you to stay here, Buck. You stay right here, okay? No more leaving. I've got you now. You don't get to leave again."

Bucky tries to answer, but the pain steals his words away, and he rolls his head on the cold metal and holds in the agonized whimpers that are fighting to get out. Steve's fingers tighten.

He hears T'Challa say something, and then Steve looks away and starts shaking his head. "No."

Bucky hangs on and tries to breathe properly. He wants to get up off the metal floor, he wants to be warm, he wants Steve to hold him and not let go of him for a very long time. "Steve," he tries, and it hurts to talk but Steve looks at him, his expression pained.

"Hang in there, Buck." He looks back up at T'Challa and keeps talking, but Bucky is not interested in what they're saying.

 _"Steve,"_ he says, louder, and he's kind of amazed he can still speak at all, let alone that loudly.

Steve finally turns his full attention to him, worry written in every line of his face. "What is it, Buck?"

Bucky swallows, searches for the words to ask for what he wants, but there is a fear there, something he can't quite explain, that's stopping him from asking.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice is wobbling again, he looks like he's barely holding it together. Bucky remembers Stark's wild eyes, the sound of Steve's shield against Stark's armor, over and over again. How this must be killing him.

 _Sorry, Steve. My fault. Again._

"We need to leave." T'Challa's voice is clear this time. "I can help your friend but we have to go now. Again, Captain, I must ask you to strap him into a seat, and sit down yourself."

 _No!_ Bucky wants to say it, but pain closes his throat, clenches his teeth. A whimper escapes anyway. He hangs onto Steve's hand as tight as he can, so he can't leave, and Steve squeezes back.

"I'm not going anywhere, Buck." He says it loud enough that T'Challa hears, and Bucky hears T'Challa say something else, but it sounds resigned now.

A sudden cough racks his body, the sharp, metallic taste of blood rises in his throat, and he whimpers in agony, shuddering against the metal floor, losing his resolve. _So cold. I'm so tired of being cold. Steve -_

Steve is saying something, something gentle and quiet, and Bucky doesn't know what he's saying, but it's soothing nonetheless – just the sound of Steve's voice, the familiar intonation, he's known this voice for his whole life, _my whole life_ – Steve's thumb is on his face, wiping away blood, or maybe it's tears –

 **Remember who you are.**

 _A dark forest, cold and damp, fear following him like a grim reaper. Icy terror in his veins like Zola's needles. He feels like he's still back in that room._

 _"You okay, Buck?"_ _A warm hand on the back of his neck._

 _He wants to cry, to scream. He'd been so strong for so long in that room, on that table, hadn't cried once – he fights with his breath, with his emotions, he's trying so hard –_

 _"It's all right, Bucky. I've got you now. He's never gonna touch you again." He's pulled against Steve's chest, he's so warm, so steady, and Bucky still can't get used to this but it's so comforting, he leans into the comfort –_

Steve's lifting him up, carefully, and maybe there should be pain but Bucky can only feel sharp relief as Steve hugs him close – he's so tired, so tired, and Steve is so warm, his shoulder so strong and steady under Bucky's heavy head, and he closes his eyes. All he can smell is blood, all he can taste is blood, but it doesn't matter.

"I've got you now, Buck."

Steve's arms are tight around him, maybe too tight, but Bucky needs it, he craves it, he thinks maybe Steve could never hold him tight enough.

"D-don't –" he tries, his mouth is dry, bloody, but he needs Steve to understand –

"What?" Steve's voice is right beside his ear, so, so familiar -

"Don't l-let go," he manages to force out, and it doesn't even sound like him, it sounds so young and afraid and broken and _pleading_. He would be ashamed, he should be ashamed, and yet he's not. He doesn't remember the last time anyone held him, comforted him, kept him warm and safe.

 _Don't let go, Steve._

Steve's arms get tighter. "I won't let go. Not ever again."

 **Remember who you are.**

Bucky closes his damp, burning eyes, curls his arm – his only arm – around Steve's back and hangs on, hangs on as tight as he can. It's the first time in years – in decades – he's had something to hang on to.

He hangs on.

 _I remember._

 _x_

 **I might write another chapter of this same scene, but from Steve's POV. Thoughts? I'm also considering writing a story set during the first movie, after Steve saves Bucky from Dr. Zola, expanding on the memory from this chapter. I've meant to write something like that for years now!**

 **Anyway, I really hope you liked this! Please leave me a review on your way out and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!**


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